


Foreign Territory

by Quillaninc



Series: Currently Untitled Hazar/Hawkins VV fic [2]
Category: Voltron: Vehicle Voltron
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visitor turns up suddenly, making the former Drule Commander reassess everything he thought he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreign Territory

**Author's Note:**

> This came after a short drabble, based on a fic as yet unwritten. I hope to fill this out at some point, but I think it still stands alone well enough.

If he had to sit through one more of these interminable meetings, Hazar was just going to have to kill the lot of them. It was that simple.

Some days he had to wonder if it wouldn't have been better to still be under the old Drule hierarchy, even though the coup lead by Zeppo and Throk had lasted less than a year. Having had a taste of true power, the more republic inclined factions throughout the population hadn't been all that eager to allow it to slip through their fingers, leaving the displaced Drule people under yet a third regime in eighteen months.

How Hazar had allowed himself to be established as a quasi political figurehead, he had no idea. It certainly hadn't been in his plans. But since the only thing all three of the main factions could agree on was that they would somewhat willingly defer to Hazar's experience as an elected mediator, he hadn't seen that he'd had much of a choice. The people for whom he'd fought so hard to build a place of safety deserved better than a coward, one who locked himself behind closed doors because the outcome was an inconvenient intrusion on his personal goals.

If only those cursed factions bothered to listen _before_ they got to the point where they needed his services, they'd all be much happier.

He'd been about to interject - yet again - into an extremely heated argument that threatened to spill over into physical violence when a servant approached deferentially and paused beside his chair. Holding up a hand to call for a stay in proceedings, he beckoned the servant closer.

"There's a call for you, sir."

Thanking the man, Hazar excused himself and followed the servant into the next room where the phone lay on a table in wait. With a great deal of relief at even the momentary reprieve, he picked up the receiver. "Yes?"

His sister's voice was lazy with amusement. "Hello, brother dear. Will you be long?"

Hazar cast a look into the tension-filled room with disgust. "Quite possibly," he grumbled.

"Oh, such a shame," Dorma drawled, and curse her if he couldn't hear the smugness in her voice. "I'd hate to have to leave your guest all by himself, but I've really got things to do."

Hazar suddenly went very still. "Guest?"

"Mmm hmm." Dorma was definitely grinning now. "Hurry home, brother. Bye bye."

It took a full half hour to deal with the absolute necessities, and just as long again to debate an agreeable time for all to continue. All the while, Dorma's cryptic call teased at his mind, driving him. Some days, he felt like strangling her as well, if he didn't dote on her so much.

Even the ride to his family's shared dwelling ate at his patience. Dorma greeted him at the doorway, grinning with delight and clearly not planning on staying around. "Don't keep him waiting, brother dear," she smirked as she waved Hazar through.

The last person he expected to find upon entering their family room was his old Terran counterpart, Commander Hawkins, rolling smoothly to his feet with those long, long legs of his.

The Garrison command must have changed uniforms; the cut was different somehow, or maybe the colour. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. On Hawkins, it certainly didn't diminish his appearance any, still accentuating broad shoulders and a lithe build ...

And eyes sparkling with his usual good humour at catching Hazar out at staring at him. Damn the man.

"It's good to see you again, Commander Hazar." Hawkins' warm smile belied the formality of his tone. "Or should that be Councillor, I'm never quite sure these days."

"Neither am I, quite frankly." While Hazar was more gruff than he intended to be, he was still reeling from the shock of seeing him here without a word of warning. Not an unpleasant one, mind, but it wasn't improving his diplomacy. "This is ... unexpected."

Hawkins at least had to good grace to look uncomfortable. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't sure I'd be granted entry when my shuttle arrived, and afterwards I didn't want to interrupt your meeting. I can go, though, if it's a bother..."

"No!" Pulling his scattered sensibilities together, Hazar continued in a less panicked tone. "It's no bother. Not in the slightest. Only..." He caught himself stepping closer and reined in that impulse as well. "What _are_ you doing here?"

"The Explorer's being recalled to the area." Hawkins tucked his hands into his pockets, shrugging a little awkwardly as he took a few steps towards Hazar. He looked all the more boyish for it. "Doom's latest manoeuvres have the Garrison feeling a little jumpy, so they're not happy with us being so far out in the other direction. Of course, that one's between us for now."

Hazar gave a short nod; there had always been this unspoken agreement between them of what was and what was not open for discussion with others. "Have they settled on a base?"

"Not as yet." Uneasily, that dark gaze flicked around the room before it settled back on Hazar again. "It's partly why I'm here. Captain Newley and I had thought it might be an idea to negotiate a temporary berth here." He grinned, just slightly. "The Council allowing, of course. It would give us some much needed leverage with the Garrison - there's a lot of bickering going on over all of this."

"I know the feeling," Hazar muttered darkly. "I'm sure something could be arranged." Needing to distract his potentially runaway tongue, he made his way over to his father's liquor display and gestured towards his guest with the metallic carafe as he lifted it. Hawkins nodded in acceptance. "You said that was only partly the reason for this visit."

"I... well." Hawkins cleared his throat awkwardly. "The truth is, I wanted to see you."

"You..." Hazar paused mid pour to turn and look at him coolly. "I see. Two years, and now you want to see me. I'm surprised you found the time, since you never managed to call."

The look he received was about as close to beseeching as Hawkins was ever going to get. "Hazar, please. It wasn't that simple. I..." Again he glanced aside, then determination steeled his eyes. "All right, I'll drop the diplomacy speak. With all of Drule's political upheavals, I was afraid that being caught in contact with a former adversary would put you at risk. I'm not sure I could have forgiven myself if something had happened just because I wanted to hear your voice."

Caught by the earnestness in Hawkins' face, Hazar stared at him, their drinks forgotten. Because, of all the reasons he'd considered, that had never been one of them. "Hawkins-"

"I thought we agreed, it's Alan."

Hazar sighed impatiently. "Alan, then-"

He broke off, beginning to mutter to himself about damn fool Terrans and their mixed up names. Instead, the sardonic remark faltered as something struck him: outside a very small group - his parents, Dorma, one or two political supporters - he was having trouble thinking of anyone who would care enough to put him first like that.

And Hawkins - _Alan_ \- how strange was that?

Officially, they'd only met twice, the four occasions they had personally engineered notwithstanding; a grand total of two dinners; four weeks of inter-craft calls, some on record, many later drifting into more personal territory; and, cosmos be damned, had his interest really been sustained all this time by only two nights? It didn't seem possible.

A careful hand took the carafe from his loose grasp, startling his gaze up to find concerned dark eyes watching him. Odd, that he'd forgotten how tall Haw- ... how tall Alan was, for a Terran. He could look him eye to eye, with almost no trouble at all.

"I'm fine," he answered Alan's unspoken question gruffly, taking back the carafe so he could finish pouring their drinks. "It suddenly occurred to me that not too many would think I'm worth that much consideration."

Alan accepted the goblet handed to him with a wry smile. "Not too many were terrified they might have gotten you killed when you went off back to Drule, either," he remarked casually as he took a sip.

Too casually, Hazar thought, sensing an undercurrent of ... what? Annoyance? Frustration, perhaps. Whatever it was, it made him want to push for something more than just these flashes of politely masked emotion. Taking a deliberating sip from his own goblet, Hazar remarked with calculated composure, "Interesting. Many would have rejoiced."

Alan actually flinched at that, a quick, sharp twitch that was swiftly suppressed, but visible all the same if someone was looking for it. Hazar felt a brief flash of triumph, but his eyes were still noting the hint of a frown in Alan's expression, and the slight tightening of his jaw.

Even Alan's sigh had a constrained quality to it. Carefully setting his goblet on the nearby sideboard, he shook his head slowly with a tight expression. "This isn't going to work," he murmured softly, starting to turn away.

A sharp, gripping fear seized Hazar's chest; he hadn't meant to push Alan that far. Alan began to step away, and suddenly Hazar's hand was there, carefully enfolding around his wrist in little more than a suggestion, but less than a demand. "Don't," Hazar said softly. "You don't need to go."

Alan's jaw tightened again, but he didn't respond, didn't lift his eyes from his withdrawn gaze to the side. Encouragingly, Hazar rubbed his thumb back and forth beneath the hem of Alan's sleeve. "Alan?"

Still no response. It was starting to occur to Hazar that neither of them had really addressed the way they both gravitated towards each other any time they'd been together in the same place. He continued to gently brush his thumb across the back of Alan's wrist as he tried to find the right words.

While he was as capable at diplomacy and oration as the next political figure, he really was more a man of action than words. Which made the situation even more peculiar, because all along, he'd allowed Alan to lead him, directing every move, every touch in this completely foreign dance of theirs.

He searched Alan's expression for some suggestion of what he should do next, but Alan remained resolutely closed. But the skin beneath his fingers was warm, and Alan's scent enticed such pleasant memories to surface; gently, Hazar tugged on his wrist to bring him closer.

Alan was fighting his instincts, Hazar could see that; his frown had deepened some, almost into a full scowl, and he licked his lips slightly. A memory of dark eyes burning from beneath even darker lashes, while Hazar's hand hesitantly skated up the back of a strong, corded thigh, made the breath catch in Hazar's throat, and he suddenly began to wonder why he kept waiting for the other man to be the one to initiate things.

"Alan," he murmured huskily, this time allowing no resistance as he drew him closer. He couldn't let himself think about things too much; his Drulish sensibilities still managed to become disoriented by anything that fell outside the norm for his caste, and this with Alan was definitely in that area.

Instead, he let his own instincts guide him, and Alan's cheek felt deliciously rough beneath the backs of his fingers. The same hint of stubble along that well defined jawline tingled against Hazar's fingertips as they gently cupped Alan's chin, his thumb skating wonderingly across the slight dip there as Hazar lifted his face to meet Hazar's gaze.

"Alan," he whispered again, and just the sight of his uneasy swallow was enough to entice him to be bold, to lean towards him and brush his mouth softly against Alan's slightly dry lips.

A soft, hesitant sigh against his lips tempted him into pressing closer, a half felt memory guiding him to move ever so carefully, to skate his tongue along the curve of Alan's lip, to almost beg for submission until Alan began to melt into the kiss and allow Hazar to draw him closer still.

The fingers sliding into his hair weren't quite reticent, but they certainly lacked the confidence he'd become used to from the other man. It made him all the more aware that he could lose, even at this point. He felt completely inadequate, though, not really knowing - not really _understanding_ \- what he needed to do to get to that amazing place where they fit together so perfectly, all sense of unfamiliarity dissipated.

Seeking some kind of guidance, he drew back enough to search Alan's expression, only to find Alan looking back at him, his gaze not quite guarded. It was as if he was _waiting_ for something, a slightly hopeful look softening that almost intimidating expectation in his eyes.

For some reason, it brought to mind that first, hesitant seduction, the look in Alan's eyes somewhat coy despite his earnestness as he asked softly in that husky, deep voice of his, _"Would a man like you allow me to kiss him?"_

Hazar still didn't know why he had agreed, except that he'd found the Commander to be a man of a keen, decisive intellect, the kind that was tempered by an honest compassion and a kind of open manner that Hazar hadn't found amongst any of his peers, that the question hadn't seemed even the remotest bit odd at the time.

And he was just as drawn to him now, as he had been back then; he just didn't know what to do with it.

_Oh really?_ his sister's voice mocked softly in his head. Because of course he did; hadn't Alan already shown him the way?

His hands slid up to cup Alan's face gently, and without thinking about it, his thumbs spanned out, caressing fine cheekbones as he sought out confirmation in those dark eyes. A soft sigh escaped firm lips as Alan turned his face into Hazar's careful touch, and Hazar just had to taste them again. They were still dry and slightly cracked, but warmed oh so well beneath his.

He let his memory guide him, and he was surprised to find how well it worked; this touch, that type of caress, a gentle nibble in just the right place, and he could entice Alan to make the most deliciously deep murmuring sounds of approval in his ear.

His hand eventually found Alan's buckle, and he was even more certain the Alliance had changed their uniforms, just from the different way it slid apart. But by then his fingers had found the edge of Alan's shirt and then satiny skin taut over the warm, solid muscles of Alan's back, and really, what the Alliance did with their clothing didn't matter any longer, suppressed completely beneath the need to touch, caress, linger, taste.

"You will stay?" he murmured into their kiss, and Alan mumbled something that sounded like agreement as he sank his fingers deeper into Hazar's silky pale hair and dragged them both closer together.

* * *

It was every bit as memorable as before.

Hazar seemed fixated on how warm Alan was to touch, spread out on Hazar's narrow bed, and how his taut muscles could quiver ever so slightly with just the right caress, the right slide of a palm over flesh, how he could surrender his control completely to Hazar, and yet still be so much a man.

His skin was salty, Hazar discovered, an enticing flavour enhanced by his musky natural scent, and he certainly didn't seem to object to Hazar savouring the taste.

And at one point, as Hazar licked his way up the strong line of Alan's throat and lifted his face enough to seek out his lover's gaze, Alan was there looking back at him beneath dusky lashes. And yes, that sense of waiting still lingered beneath a rich smokey desire, but it finally - _finally_ \- clicked in, that Alan had been handing Hazar everything, all along. Even his anticipation.

And while it might not be absolute perfection, Hazar had every intention of making it as close to it as possible.

* * *

The time was slipping aside too fast for comfort; already, the timepiece on his bedside was closing in on the middle hour of the night, and Hazar was fighting sleep just to make the most of being able to watch the man beside him doze.

He still didn't know how long Alan would be here - would he need a day? A week? Less? - and it was starting to shake him a little that he could already feel the emptiness creeping back in at the thought of no longer having this long, lean body curled so intimately against his.

He moved carefully to reposition himself into a more comfortable place, one hand gently shifting Alan into a better spot, almost tucked beneath Hazar's chin, his arm unwittingly draped low across Hazar's hips in a way that Hazar didn't mind at all.

What worried him, though, was the idea that he might have to fight to both keep his position with the Council and to have whatever time was possible with this man. He was just starting to realise Alan filled in so many of the gaping cracks that Hazar's past had created, and the thought that he could lose that... But a man of his status was left powerless unless his future was approved of by either his peers or his family.

Without thinking about it, he curled his arms tighter around his lover's shoulders, his hand sifting wondrously through Alan's slightly coarse, mussed hair.

They lay together this way for another hour or more, Hazar listening to Alan's slow, deep breathing, feeling it waft damp and warm across his skin beneath the covers. His hands seemed unable to stop themselves from gently caressing wherever he could reach. Then he heard movement in the main room of the apartment, his parents' voices barely audible but there all the same, and something inside just _tensed_.

He waiting, listening, and as part of him expected, it wasn't long before footsteps echoed in the hallway. Then a soft knock made him start slightly, and the door slid partly open.

Hazar couldn't say why, but his arms tightened protectively around a man he knew full well needed no such protection as he almost defiantly met his father's mildly questioning gaze. He wasn't going to defend himself, or his actions, not right now, but it didn't stop him from turning to nuzzle slightly into Alan's hair, his eyes still challenging Mozak to say something.

Then, to his surprise, his father offered an understanding smile and a brief, almost nod that, despite the hint of sadness in his eyes, was no less accepting.

Gently, he closed the door behind him, and Hazar felt the tension within completely unravel.

Curling Alan closer to himself, accepting - _revelling_ \- in his own shiver of delight as Alan murmured into the hollow of his neck and tightened his own hold, Hazar allowed himself to press a lingering kiss to Alan's forehead and to simply enjoy the feeling of Alan's body, so silky yet so masculine against his.

He still didn't know when Alan would leave, but it was less important now. Because, even after Alan had returned to his own command, Hazar now knew he would always come back.

It might be a while, but this ... this had proven it was worth the wait.

* * *

_To: Councillor General Hazar,  
New Drule Council_

_From: Commander J.A. Hawkins,  
SS Explorer_

_Councillor General, please find the transcript and signed agreements resulting from our discussions with your Council attached to this communiqué, with our thanks. Due to your Council's generosity, and having had several conversations with the command and staff of the SS Explorer, the general feeling has been that we can all look forward to a new era of co operation between our people and the New Drule nation._

_Captain Newley will be in touch with your representative shortly to confirm docking and berth arrangements, as well as our estimated date of arrival, as previously arranged._

_Personally, I would like to again thank you and your Council for your recent hospitality. Could you also please convey my regards to your parents, and thank them for a very pleasant stay._

_Yours sincerely,_

_James Alan Hawkins_

_P.S. I presume the offer of accommodation still stands for next month? I look forward to it._


End file.
